


How Sweet the Taste of Certainty

by mhurm123



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Batman Bingo, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Found Family, Gen, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, Wayne Enterprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhurm123/pseuds/mhurm123
Summary: “B, I don’t think ‘Bring Your Kid to Work Day’ is supposed to be an excuse for you to get all of your children in one room."Or: For Bruce, take your kid to work day is every day. He decides to change things up.(Filling the 'Wayne Enterprises' and 'Found Family' slots on my batman bingo 2020 card)
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884187
Comments: 19
Kudos: 628





	1. Wayne Enterprises

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally filling a prompt from batman week back in March ('Bring Your Kid to Work Day') but I never posted it so here it is, six months late but ready to see the light of day.
> 
> Chapter 1 covers the 'Wayne Enterprises' prompt, while chapter 2 will cover the 'found family'.

‘Take Your Kid To Work Day’ was an annual event at Wayne Enterprises. Bruce liked the idea of his workers putting family first, and what better way to bond with your kid than to bore them to death with meetings and paperwork? In Tim’s humble opinion, the day was stupid. Not a lot of work got done because the only kids that were brought in were _toddlers_ and the very rare teenager looking to get a job or internship in the company. 

For Bruce, ‘Take Your Kid To Work Day’ was every day. He and Tim drove separately, but they always met up as soon as they got to work to spend a few moments together before being pulled into separate directions. They’d both wake up some more with their cups of coffee while they looked over their schedules. After no more than ten minutes of that, they would split up and maybe meet for lunch on the off chance that a meeting got canceled and the times lined up (it usually didn’t). Then they would finally head home, often at different times. 

Tim expected this morning to go no differently. They would sit in relative silence as he downed his coffee, and then Tim would get through the day with a headache that resembled an angry gorilla banging at his skull rather than the usual gaggle of annoyed geese. He’d go home, drink some more coffee, down a few painkillers, and go over some paperwork before he needed to be out on the streets. Not the ideal day, but still easy enough.

He had his to-go coffee cup (one that Bruce gave him when he started the job, it read “Don’t Ask How Many Times I’ve Refilled This”) and his briefcase, both of which he expertly held in one hand as he used the other to turn the knob on Bruce’s office door. “So, I was thinking. Mrs. Robinson brought her three-year-old, and so did Mr. Cole, so maybe if we move the meeting early enough, we can catch them before the kids get tired and minimize tantrums. That way-” Tim cut himself off mid-sentence when he spotted his family. His _whole family_ congregated around Bruce’s desk. They were all dressed in business suits, holding the newest Wayne Tech tablets in hand. From what Tim could see over Damian’s shoulder, they were all looking at the same hourly planner that Tim and Bruce used to organize their day.

“Hey, Timmy!” Dick greeted with his blinding smile. Tim looked between his siblings warily before his gaze landed on Bruce.

“B, I don’t think ‘Bring Your Kid to Work Day’ is supposed to be an excuse for you to get all of your children in one room. Really, how did you all get out of work? And school? Doesn’t Damian have exams today?”

“Tt. Principal Simmons would be idiotic to deny me a day at my father’s company. Learning about the job I plan to pursue first hand is a much more productive way to spend my time than on useless math equations.” Damian spoke up with a huff. 

Bruce gave Tim a bored look. “I talked to his teacher to see if we could move it up. He took his exam last week.”

“Last week?” Tim questioned, voice just a little higher pitched than usual. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Weeks,” Duke supplied. The bags under his eyes and the Monster in his hand showcased just how tired the kid was. (Tim, after a bizarre conversation at 3 AM, knew Duke only ever drank energy drinks when he was so close to crashing that it’d be a good idea for someone to follow behind him with a pillow at the ready. Just in case he goes down.) “He’s made all of us look at hours worth of power points so we won’t somehow destroy the company in a day.”

“I’m just here for the food,” Jason spoke up from where he was sitting in one of the chairs that was supposed to be facing towards Bruce’s desk. Instead, it had been pulled to the opposite side of the room, and his legs were propped up on one of the filing cabinets. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and his suit jacket was completely unbuttoned, along with the top few buttons of his shirt. 

“The food is the best part,” Steph agreed. It was true that the food was always excellent on ‘Take Your Kid to Work Day.’ Bruce brought in caterers and set up a buffet in the lunchroom with food geared towards the kids. Tim always looked forward to the mac and cheese.

“Steph, what are you doing here? You’re not even a part of the family!” She sent him a look that could kill. “Oh, you know what I mean!”

“Two words. Hot wings.” She tapped the side of her head then pointed to Tim like he was stupid for not having figured it out earlier.

“Wings are nice. Good.” Cass nodded.

Tim shook his head, mentally preparing himself for a much longer day than he’d initially thought. He had a feeling he’d be taking the largest amount of Advil humanly possible (without killing himself, hopefully, but only time would tell) when he got home. “Okay.” He sighed and took his usual seat, which had miraculously been left untouched. “Like I was saying, I think if we move the twelve o’clock appointment up to ten, then we might be able to get some things done…” Tim looked up from where he was pulling his tablet out of his briefcase. “Why is everyone looking at me like I’ve grown another head?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Dick asked Bruce.

“Tell me what?” 

“Of course he didn’t. It’s Bruce! What did you expect?” Jason piped up. 

“Weren’t you supposed to tell him yesterday?” Duke asked.

“Seriously, Bruce? Oh my god!” Steph barked out a laugh.

“What am I missing?” Tim’s voice boomed above everyone else, the same way it did in a board meeting when people would forget Tim’s position and begin talking over him. He might be seventeen, but he’s an adult (okay, fine, not really, but essentially!), and as a CEO, he had to demand respect. All of his siblings looked at him again, waiting for the silence to be filled. Tim sighed and spoke once more. “Bruce, what did you forget to tell me?”

Bruce laced his hands together, placing them on the desk in front of him. “Neither of us are working today.”

A beat. “What the fuck?” Tim asked eloquently. “This is one of the most chaotic days of the year, Bruce. We both need to be here.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Dick supplied.

“Father deemed it fit that you two go on a ‘bonding’ excursion. I do not see how it is necessary, but it _does_ put me in a position to prove that I am much more suited for the company than you are-”

“Damian,” Dick spoke up in a warning tone, to which Damian gave a huff of annoyance. “Tim earned his position, just like you will once you’re old enough to work here.” 

Bruce decided to interfere before Damian could say more. “Your siblings have graciously agreed to act as us for the day. I thought it might be nice for us to do something together. Just the two of us.” Well, that’s not something Tim would’ve seen coming. Honestly, he would’ve thought the probability of an asteroid hitting was higher than that of Bruce taking him on a father-son outing. Was it even that? Or was Bruce just wanting an excuse to get away from little kids? Tim couldn’t blame him if that _was_ his excuse, but it still raised the question of why Bruce wouldn’t just cancel the day. It was a big event, but not nearly as significant as most of the other things going on in the company at any given moment.

“...You’re sure?” He asked hesitantly as if a camera crew was about to jump out and shout that he’d just been punked.

“He better be,” Duke warned. “I didn’t sit through two hours worth of ‘boardroom etiquette’ for nothing.”

“The likelihood of you even being needed in a meeting are slim to none,” Jason pointed out to which Duke groaned.

“I didn’t sign up for this. I wish I’d known what I was getting into when I joined this family because I would’ve politely declined.”

Jason snorted. “Wouldn’t we all?”

Miss Caroline, Bruce’s secretary, took that moment to step into the office. “I apologize for the interruption, but we need to iron a few things out before you leave.”

Bruce nodded. “Of course. Tim, why don’t you head home and change into something more comfortable. I’ll meet up with you as soon as we’re finished with this.”

Tim took a second to study Bruce’s face. He was serious. Absolutely, 100%, not bullshitting him. “...Okay.” He snapped his briefcase back shut and grabbed his coffee before quickly exiting the office. 

He prayed his siblings made it through the day.


	2. Different Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is a Good Dad, okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long to finish but ya'know... at least it's finished.

Tim stared out the window as they pulled up to the gallery, his camera dangling from his neck. He didn’t pay any attention as Bruce found a parking spot, or when he turned the car off, his wide eyes too busy being trained on the building in front of them. “Bruce is this-- are you _serious_?” He questioned, whipping his head around to look at his mentor. 

“Well, I definitely didn’t bring you here to take a picture of the fountain outside,” the man joked, unbuckling his seat belt.

“Yeah but these tickets have been sold out for _months_ ,” Tim pointed out. They both knew the sentiment behind those words. Bruce hadn’t been here when those tickets were still on sale. 

“I have connections.”

Tim gave a one-armed shrug, practically saying ‘fair enough’. Bruce seemed to want to have that conversation about as much as Tim did, so he didn’t push it. Instead, he turned and quickly shoved the door open, all but running to the building. He approached the entrance, only turning around when he realized the old man wasn’t keeping pace with him. In fact, he was quite far back. Bruce’s hands were casually in his pockets as he watched Tim in amusement. Tim was, in fact, _not_ amused, foot tapping against the ground as he waited impatiently. “We both know you can walk faster than that,” Tim hissed as Bruce got closer.

“Yeah, but it’s funny to see you so jittery.” He finished making his way up the steps, following Tim into the museum.

It only took them a few minutes to make their way to the exhibit they’d be going through. Tim had seen an ad for it when they’d first announced it, but he hadn’t thought much of it. He was in Paris at the time and had a lot of other things to worry about than some museum on the other side of the world. 

The whole exhibit was set up so each room had different pieces that were moved every night. There were sunroofs throughout the place that had colored panels put in. The shades of color in the room were directly affected by the light shining through the ceiling. A sunny day would yield completely different results than that of a rainy one. Tim could walk the same exhibit a thousand times and get different results every time. 

As soon as they were in the room, Tim’s camera was up. The whole exhibit was _made_ for photographers.

The first room was a bright blue, the different sculptures casting fascinating shadows against the walls and painting behind them. Tim snapped picture after picture, the old hobby coming back to him with ease. He hadn’t picked up his camera much recently, but searching for the right angle was just muscle memory at this point. Sometimes in everyday life, he found himself looking for a better angle to a picture. He’d see a group of people unknowingly standing in perfect windows and want to document it before he’d realize his camera was stuffed away in a box under his bed. Sometimes the light would shine _just right_ and he'd feel himself reaching for the familiar weight around his neck that wasn’t there. He was too busy for the hobby anymore, but it didn’t stop him from searching for a different perspective. 

He snapped a picture of his own shadow against the wall, laughing as he threw up a peace sign. “C’mon, B,” he urged, waving the man over. Bruce sighed like he absolutely loathed the idea, but didn’t put up a fight when Tim threw his leg up and Bruce deftly caught it, holding half of Tim’s weight in one hand. Tim quickly snapped the picture, laughing at the pose as they continued forward. 

The pair continued like that for hours. Tim took picture after picture, forcing Bruce into a few every room. He even made the man pose a few times because the light was just _too perfect_. 

As they roamed, though, Tim felt a knot forming in his stomach. There was no way Bruce just decided to do this out of nowhere. He knew his mentor. He knew him _well_ , and Bruce wasn’t the kind of person to leave work for something as mundane as taking one of his kids out to look at some art. There was something else going on, and Tim needed to figure out what it was before Bruce dumped it on him with no warning.

“So,” Tim cleared his throat, laying down on the floor so he could look up at the ceiling through the lens. “Anything of interest going on right now?” Bruce knew what he meant behind those words, but he just shrugged as he stood over Tim, looking up as if he was searching for what Tim found so fascinating about the roof. 

“Things have been fairly quiet,” he admitted, head tilting so he was looking down at Tim instead. The teen gave a single nod, moving his camera at the last second to take a picture of a caught off guard Bruce. He chuckled at the man's expression, pulling himself off the floor. 

“I think I’m done.” The pit in his stomach was growing to the point of distraction, and he knew it was time to leave before that feeling became heavier. 

* * *

Tim gripped the mug tightly in his hand, staring down at the dark brown contents. The tea had been steeping for a lot longer than it probably should, but Tim always liked his drinks dark.

Bruce sat across from him, nursing his own cup. They’d stopped at Alfred’s favorite tea place after their visit to the museum, the pair settling into a silence that neither of them had broken in nearly ten minutes. Tim wasn’t exactly sure what was going through Bruce’s head, but he had a feeling the lack of conversation wasn’t as stifling to the man as it was to Tim. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater up, refusing to give any more signs of his discomfort even though he desperately wanted to shift in his seat. 

Tim looked up to Bruce, hand still securely around his mug. If the elder noticed the way Tim’s skin seemed to be itching, he didn’t say anything. “Okay, B.” He broke the silence finally, the man meeting his gaze. “This has been nice, so what's the catch?” 

Bruce had the audacity to look surprised, his right eyebrow raising ever so slightly in questioning. “Catch?”

“Always a man of many words,” Tim joked to cover up the way he uneasily moved to cross his feet. “You never take any of us out to ‘bond’.” Tim put air quotes around the word. “I get it, you’re busy. It’s not a big deal, but stuff like this never happens unless you need something. So? I’m assuming it’s a case. Who is it this time? The Riddler? Ivy? Clayface? If it’s Ra’s, I’m not doing it. I swear to god, Bruce, not again--”

“Tim,” Bruce spoke sternly, cutting him off from saying anything else incriminating, even if it was noon on a Wednesday and hardly anyone was around them aside from the waitress who was too involved helping the only other customers to be paying them any mind. Bruce, ever paranoid. “There’s no catch.”

It was Tim’s turn for confusion. “You don’t have to beat around the bush,” he insisted. He wanted to figure out what Bruce needed so he could get it done with and go back to his own shit. “I knew from the minute we showed up at that nice gallery that something was up.”

Bruce’s face settled into a neutral state, even though Tim could tell the look was forced. He knew the tensing of Bruce’s shoulders. He understood the meaning behind the clinking sound of Bruce’s teacup being sat back down in its saucer. The man was ready for a fight. He knew Tim wasn’t going to like what came out of his mouth next, and he was preparing himself for any verbal backlash he might receive. 

“This is exactly why I wanted to do this.”

Tim blinked, waiting for more. But there wasn’t more. That was all Bruce had to say, and Tim gripped his mug even harder in return. His toes dug into the pavement underneath his feet as he searched Bruce’s face for any tells. There were none, and Tim was forced to spit out, “What does that mean?”

It was a nice afternoon in Gotham. The smog wasn’t too thick today, so some sunlight was actually able to shine down on the pair as they sat at a small round table. Bruce was almost comically large in comparison to the setup, his hand almost completely encompassing the cup of tea. A soft breeze kept pushing Tim’s hair into his face, which he kept tucking behind his ear. The wind brought with it the soft scent of the flowers that had been planted all around the outside sitting area, but the overwhelming smell was trash. Gotham is Gotham, after all. 

Tim let out a huff as a particularly big gust of wind sent his hair into his eyes, fighting against mother nature to card a hand through his hair and keep it held back. He stared at B expectantly, hating the amused look the man wore.

“I mean exactly what I said. You thinking I had some ulterior motive was the whole reason I wanted to do this. I don’t…” Bruce let out almost a pained sound as he closed his mouth, seemingly searching for his next words. Tim didn’t think he’d ever seen the man at a loss for what to say next. He was _always_ three steps ahead. He hated being any less than that. 

“When I was gone,” Bruce continued. “I had a lot of time to think. And when I came back, everything had changed. I realized that you were hurting. Dick was hurting. Damian was hurting. _Everyone_ was hurting… and I hadn’t done enough. For any of you. I know there’s things I’m not aware of. You all left out information when catching me up, there are files missing. I guess I can’t blame any of you for that. It’s not like I ever gave you any reason to feel comfortable sharing that with me.” Bruce let out a ragged breath as Tim stared dumbly, his brain trying to play catch up with everything he’d just heard. “So when I saw the exhibit, I saw my chance. I only hoped you’d like it when I made the plans, but Cass reassured me you’d love it.”

The museum _had_ been fun, Tim couldn’t deny that.

He’d taken about a million pictures as they walked through, letting the old hobby ease some of the tension that had built in his shoulders over the years. He never had a chance to do photography anymore. Most of his pictures now were candid shots of the family that Dick liked to print and hang on the fridge like some third grade art project. They never made it to the Manor walls. Not like Damian’s painting. Those seemed to multiply through the rooms-- every time Tim visited, he took note of a new one hanging up. They were, quite frankly, beautiful. The artist in him couldn’t deny that, no matter if the hands behind that art almost definitely wanted to make a piece completely out of Tim’s blood. ‘ _Drake_ ’, it would be helpfully titled.

It hurt, knowing Damian’s work was cared for so much more than Tim’s. Especially after all the brat did to make sure Tim knew photography wasn’t _real art._ It only helped to further his neglect of the hobby.

Tim’s interactions with the family hadn’t changed much since Bruce’s return. Things were still messy, everyone tiptoeing around some elephants in the room that no one was ready to address. Being alone with Dick was tense, and he couldn’t interact with Damian without some snide remark being made. Some wounds were just too deep to fully heal yet. And apparently, Bruce took note of that a lot more than anyone was giving him credit for. 

“So…” Tim began, trying to get all of the information correct. “You seriously just wanted to spend time together?”

Bruce nodded. “I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Tim was sure that if Bruce knew _everything_ that happened while he was gone, that wouldn’t be the case, but he’d take what he could get. Bruce didn’t need to know quite yet. _No one_ needed to know. He would cross that bridge when he got to it. 

“Okay,” he agreed. There was another much shorter pause this time. The itchy feeling on Tim’s skin had subsided and he no longer felt the need to grind his heels into the pavement. “Did anyone tell you about the Superman documentary that came out a few months ago where they suspected he was a government spy from Russia?”

Bruce chuckled, sending a smile across Tim’s face in return. “No.”  
  
“Yeah! They actually had some compelling arguments…”

They continued to sit together until their tea turned to ice, and then even longer after that. Things weren’t perfect. Shit was messy, and Bruce still didn’t know everything that happened in his absence, but this was a step in the right direction.

* * *

Tim looked up from his place in one of the large, comfy chairs when the unmistakable cacophony of his siblings entered the house. He didn’t pay them any mind as the sound grew closer, working to edit some of the photos he’d taken until he would inevitably be pulled into a conversation, never to finish.

He was given another blissful forty-three seconds before the door to the sitting room slammed open and Jason promptly flopped down onto the surprisingly comfortable carpet. “I am not leaving this spot until Alfred calls for dinner.”

Tim rolled his eyes as more of his siblings poured in. Damian took the other chair, Dick settling heavily on the floor, leaning against the armrest. Damian looked a little tousled but was mostly fine. Dick still wore his content smile, but Tim knew the bags under his eyes hadn’t been there when he first saw his brother this morning. 

Steph and Cass seemed mostly unphased, the only change being the former’s hair was up and the latter was missing a suit jacket. They both settled into the couch, Cass against the armrest while Steph sat in the middle, head tilting back against the cushions. Her eyes fell closed as she muttered, “So. Full.”

The last to pull himself into the room was none other than-- “Duke, holy shit. You look like you just spent three nights in a row trying to get the entire Rogue gallery back in Arkham.” Tim stared at the poor guy, eyes basically closed with how harsh the bags under them were. Was this what Tim looked like when he went four days without sleep?

Duke groaned in response, flopping into the empty space on the couch. His head landed in Steph’s lap and his legs dangled over the other armrest. 

“There was an issue with the schedule so Duke had to sit through three meetings when he wasn’t even supposed to have one,” Dick explained to Tim, exhaustion seeping into his words. 

“So. Many. White. Men.” Duke whined as Stephanie patted his head.

Tim nodded solemnly. “White men are the worst.” 

“Dude, you’re a white man,” Steph pointed out.

“Yeah but I’m gay, so it doesn’t count.”

“That’s not how it works, you twerp,” Jason spoke up, lifting his head so he didn’t get a mouthful of carpet. 

“I found the day to be quite enlightening. I was very happy to find that Mr. Phillips agreed with my stance on meat substitutes and was willing to work with me to distribute a new line of substitutes for those with different dietary needs.”

The room fell silent for a moment, processing what Damian had just said. 

“Damian, did you do a _brand deal?”_ Tim asked sternly, a fresh headache already starting to rear its ugly head in the back of his skull.

“No, I did not make a _brand deal_ , Drake. What do you take me for? I created a whole new brand.”

Tim threw his head back in a groan. “This is _so_ not my job. Bruce gets to fix this, I swear.” He pushed himself up out of his seat, holding his laptop close as he made for the door. 

“Where are you going? You didn’t even tell us about your day!” Dick called. 

“I’m kindly telling Bruce I’m never skipping work to ‘bond’ ever again.” 

In the long run, they ended up keeping Damian’s meat substitute. 

(Days later, Tim ended up spending the night in the Manor after a particularly rough patrol that ended with too many scrapes and bruises to count and a dislocated shoulder. On his way to his room, he noticed a new piece hanging in one of the sitting rooms. It took him a moment to process, and when he did, he literally walked backwards to peak his head inside. 

There, settled next to a bookshelf, was a framed photo Tim had taken at the gallery. The lighting was a bright lilac illuminating Bruce’s face. Even with the color overlay, you could make out Bruce’s salt and pepper hair and the lines on his forehead. His age was showing, especially in the photo, but he took it with grace. 

The most intriguing part of the picture, though, was the content look on the man’s face. Tim wasn’t sure he’d _ever_ seen that soft smile, so he captured the moment before the elder could notice the camera was trained on him, not the sculpture he was peering at. 

When Tim finally turned and started towards his room again, there was a small smile on his lips. It wasn’t a tooth-barring, face splitting smile, but it was there nonetheless. And Tim knew, despite everything, that things were heading in the right direction. Even if they were the smallest baby steps possible. He would be okay.)


End file.
